Havet i Mig
by FanSlewFantasy
Summary: THE OCEAN IN ME. Mathias is always saying strange things to him. Mathias is a strange guy, and on a early morning trip to the beach, things get slightly stranger. AU, DenNor. M for a reason, Yaoi, lots of stuff like that. R&R? :3 Oneshot.


.

.

**~HAVET I MIG ~**  
>A Hetalia Axis Powers Fanfiction*Presented by FanSlewFantasy 2011<br>_DenmarkxNorway _***R18*  
>.<strong>

_I always feel weird as fuck writing DenNor, because some of my close friends are Danish and im not sure how they would feel about my total rape of their language and the fact that I ship their country with Norway. In a totally sexual way. Yerp…_

www. youtube. com/ watch? v= ZES3nJQYJok&ob=av2e

…

"Matthias this is a bad idea."

"Shush, don't be dumb. Come on."

"You are so, incredibly drunk.

"I am sooooooooooo not drunk." He shook his head in disbelief, the hand not holding a half filled bottle of Carlsberg jammed insistently in front of me and swaying a little bit where he stood. "Come on! It will be _super_ fun."

"It sounds like a _super_ stupid idea."

Kind of like coming to this place, and this school, and my existence in general.

Matthias was my room-mate, an eighteen year old Dane with an affinity for beer and strawberries, sometime even as a single entity. He had that look, that absolutely carelessly _Danish_ look. His hair was of course blonde; his deep-set eyes (prematurely feathering creases around the corners when he smiled) were predictably blue. His jaw didn't quite have that stout squareness but his nose was of that fine pronunciation, his lips attractively wide and thin. Even the faint freckles that teased, oh so teased, the tip of his nose were of a land boy. His teeth were perfect, and he flashed them to me, reaching a bold hand out in invitation. I didn't want to take it, and I wouldn't.

I wouldn't.

"No." I stepped back, the soles of my boots slipping a little over the grind of stones in the driveway. "I don't trust you, and I don't trust that bike."

Matthias rolled his eyes. "Look, its fine. It's starting to get light, and it's not like I've never ridden tandem before." He set down his bottle, pulled off a glove and flexed his fingers "come on, it will be fun."

Well, he was right about the light, at least.

The watery morning light, spring trying to shake the shackles of winter from its wrists, reflected off the sparkling frosted windows of the Efterskole behind him. A chilled breeze rustled long grass peacefully and the silver line of dawn across the horizon was stretching and swelling. My watch read six thirty-two am. In this light, he was very beautiful. His hair was damp, his army coat had wet patches on the shoulders that drew down his arms and breast, darkening the cloth. The loose H&M scarf he had slung around his neck was a fluttery blue colour that looked oddly vibrant in the grey light, like his eyes it stood out dramatically in the set of a dull dawn.

"Please?" he made a soft plea, and offered me, palm up this time, his bare pink hand. "I want to show you, it's really special."

Discomforted, I rubbed my jacketed arms and looked away.

"… If you crash…"

"I won't crash!" he insisted, grabbing my arm and tugging me forward. "I promise."

His eyes were so genuine and achingly magnetic. I couldn't help but meet them, and crumple under their plea. I sniffed.

"Fine." My arm was jerked away roughly, I approached his rickety old bicycle and ran my hand across the handlebars where I was about to sit. "Fine I will come with you. But please be careful."

…

Unlike the glorious mountains and waterfalls of my homeland, Denmark was flat. Pancake flat. Like someone had gotten a rolling pin and crushed the whole nation into a plate of earth with nothing remarkable about it. This didn't make for much when driving across the land to a boarding school in the middle of no-where, but when biking at twenty kph on the handlebars of a drunk singing Ke$ha, it was definitely a good thing.

"M-Mathias…."

"Yo!" he called, chin resting in the crook of my neck and shoulder. "What's the haps?"

"Could you slow down a bit?" I asked, shifting a little in the cradle of the bar beneath my numb ass, "I think I'm slipping off."

"Ack, so naggy." He clicked down the gears of his bike, my white knuckles almost snapped when I tightened my grip around the bar I clutched as security, and the fame beneath me shuddered weakly. "There. Are you cold?"

I shook my head, a lie, and slid a little more comfortably in my spot. The fields we were passing by were endless, dissolving into pale fog beyond the stretches of snowmelt and hardy blue green grass. No fences, no houses, no cars. The cut lines white on the road ticked by as we passed in a silent sweep, cold air prickled my cheeks and I realised he must be strong, to catapult us both across this mercilessly level land without a single complaint, the chain on the bike tinking and kissing lightly as he went. His breath against my neck was hot.

"Not far now," he assured me, before returning to humming. I stretched my dangling legs out front, in the hope they would not turn totally numb, and leaned back against him where at least I felt a little safe. We had been biking for almost twenty minutes, but it was yet to get any lighter, it was yet to warm any more, and the pearly sheen of mist across my skin was beginning to crystallise. I longed for my dorm room, and my bed beside the radiator. Marshmallow pillows and quilts and maybe a hot chocolate for a spidery cold Saturday morning while Mathias slept off that hangover that was yet to strike.

He was always hung-over on Saturdays. Not because he went out with friends either. He usually went out by himself on his bike, or if it was raining or snowing got wasted in our room. Normally, he would crawl into bed beside me those nights while I slept, and in the morning I would roll over and see his face flushed with warmth and inebriation just inches from my own.

It always gave me the shivers, no matter how often it happened. He was so much bigger than me, and imposing. To see such an obnoxiously loud man sleep curled like a baby beside me was much more than unsettling. I wondered if he would have inflicted such invasion on any other room mate he may have gotten, or if his bewildering affection toward me was a personal thing. It was hard to tell. It was hard to tell a lot about him, actually. Sometimes, he did things that I don't even think_ he_ could justify. Things like smoke leaves he had picked up off the ground one day, because he was bored.

Things like burn his fingernails with his lighter, and hiss when he accidently got his fingers.

More than once I had seen him sit for hours just looking into a mirror, murmuring words to himself.

That was what Mathias and I had in common, I suppose, the reason he had developed an affinity to me and I had taken it without complaint. We were both a little strange and maybe, our strangeness was what tied us together. Not that I would have chosen him of course, if I had been given an opportunity to choose my companion, but he was a considerate lover, if obnoxious about it, and a loyal friend, if embarrassing when getting into a punch up with a junior who didn't like my taste in hats.

At least, with Mathias around, I wasn't lonely.

A lot of the students at the Efterskole didn't like me, some of them paid me no attention at all. My parents of course were too busy gallivanting around Asia to really care, and it's not like they would have left me in Norway all alone, horror of horrors. Basically, I was stuck there, learning I'm not sure what for another five months and wishing more than anything else I could just _go home_. The _people _here in Denmark weren't the same, the snow here wasn't the same. NOTHING was the same, and seven months had done nothing to ease me into the life I was supposed to be learning to live a long painful stretch from home. It's hard to believe that only a few hours travel and my world could be so holistically flipped, that I could step from the cold, quiet life of an upper class city boy to a wild, in your face culture of loud hick town teens and well…

A too-loud-to-be-real idiot who was so excessively 'in ones face' he didn't even fit in with the rest of them.

Modern Danish teenagers had forgotten, clearly, what it meant to be young, and what it meant to be a Viking. Mathias seemed a living embodiment that was ignored in favour of American fashion and trashy life.

Okay, maybe I was fond of him, a little bit.

I small smile turned my lip, I inclined my head so I could see him peering over my shoulder in dedicated concentration, his brow furrowed lightly, his unruly blonde hair blown off his perfect, pink cheeked face. I immediately banished the smile when he turned to peek at me, face returning to a state as blank as I possibly could muster.

"How far to go?"

"About one k. not far."

"Mm." I settled, and took to watching the stereo landscape waltz by. The wind had lulled a little, but with the swiftness we moved down the straight stretch of road, my scarf flickered and the fingers of a cold breeze traced beneath the hem of my jacket, caressing my stomach and chest. His fingers, in partnership, lifted from the left handle and ran lightly across my waist.

"Your hair smells nice." He mused, nose nudging the long bangs at the side of my face. "You need a clip or something though, to hold it back."

"Shut up and bike." I mumbled. "You will crash."

But even drunk, Matthias couldn't have crashed. The world around us was utterly void, there was nothing to crash into, and the ease he pushed us forward with seemed sober and calmingly firm. Soon, the hem of the horizon cracked with the faint rolls the Danes called 'hills' and a seem of blue frothed at the edges. He scooted the bike along a little more recklessly when he saw it, and I held on more still, beginning to feel small trembles of excitement and a stirring anxiety to get off and stretch my legs.

"We are nearly there." His voice was soft with his smile. "Bisserup strand. Been here yet?"

"No." I shook my head. "Never been to a Danish beach."

He laughed. "Don't expect too much then."

I smiled, and glanced at the snow still melting on the road around us.

"I won't."

We passed the last stretch in silence.

Bisserup beach was invisible beyond the campground we arrived at, and when I slipped off the bike, landing with a crunch on a surface of pebbles, I couldn't help but wonder if the ripple of ocean I had spotted was just a mirage or what. He jumped off his bike and grabbed both it and I, wheeling us over to the rack beside the closed campground kiosk.

It was almost seven am.

"This way." He loosened his scarf, jamming a spare hand into his jacket pocket and dragging out a red packet of cigarettes. "Over by the hedge and caravan. Would you like a cigarette?"

"No." I stood on my tip toes, hooking my arm through his without thinking and craning to see where he was meaning. "Over by the moped?"

"Yea." He tucked a smoke in his mouth and lit his cigarette with a lighter from his pocket. "hurry, hurry. Let's walk."

He strode ahead, dragging me behind him, and I ducked and hurried at his tail as we crossed an empty car park, toward rows of caravans. The curling path we followed wove parallel to a low wire fence on one side and a hedge hemming the camp grounds on the other. Stones turned to dull tan sand along the way, bleached grey by the odd light in which the blue of his scarf was the only colour that really glowed. The spirits of smoke from his cigarette was warmingly bitter, clouding and coiling above my head as we edged down the path to the beach.

He was right to warn me not to expect much.

"Well, here we are. Welcome to Bisserup beach!"

…

"Ugh…" I pulled a face, trudging through the sludgy black mire of rejected seaweed and rotting whatever the hell else it is lying all over the shale of the shoreline. "It stinks…"

"Yah, I know right?"

The smell was slick and oily; rancid in the wet, thick way that decomposing nature was and crusted by a crumbling salty odour that made me feel ill. He didn't seem bothered by it, stomping recklessly over the muck to the dark, unpleasant water lapping at the thin chain of bare shore between sludge and sea. "But its okay, cause I didn't bring you here to see the mud."

"… then why am I here?" I folded my arms over my chest and ran my gaze up and down the waterline. "There's nothing else to see."

"Oh silly, that's not true." He beckoned me forward, closer to the cold water and the grey muddied snow-melt border beneath his feet. "Look over here." He stepped aside and pointed a little way over, "there's a pier."

Pier was an abstract term, I think, for the rickety rotten wood structure that hobbled like a bridge of broken bones out from the low rocky shore to the chopping weft of dark ocean beyond. Imaginative, exaggerative, generous… it looked more to me like a weak spaghetti and string attempt at construction, as made by a child in kindy class. Ragged slime covered struts jutted proudly from a dark, undulating sea, planks reached across the gaps, waiting for a foot to breach the delicate balance they were suspended in.

I blinked, wondering if maybe it would look better on the other side of my eyelids. But it did not.

"You are kidding, right?"

He laughed and tugged on my hand.

"Come on, let's get going." He hopped forward and once again I was strung along too, even though I resisted. No way did I want to go near the death trap construction. No way in _hell_.

"Mathias, no…."

"Oh come on. Trust me."

"But…" my gaze was fixed on the pier and we drew recklessly closer. "But Mathias…"

"Shh… you trusted me with the bike right? You didn't fall off right?"

I grumbled, but nodded. He smiled.

"So trust me with this okay?"

Reluctantly, sucking a deep breath, I nodded. "Okay, fine."

His face lit up and we closed the gap between ourselves and the pier. Without hesitation he clapped his way onto the wooden planks, I had no chance to wait before I was pulled on too. The soggy, mildewed wood bowed and creaked beneath me, and I realised with a jolt that the surface I stood on was suspended less than ten centimetres above the lapping, ink black water still glistening with shards of ice.

"Don't be afraid!" fearlessly, he stomped down the pier, and from the midway point looking back the shore seemed suddenly miles away, spray from the waves hushing upward and howling below us fanned across my boots. A plank gave way beneath me, I gasped, and clung desperately to his arm, my ankle clacking against the wood and sharping pain through my whole leg. Without faltering, he pulled me back up.

"Shall I carry you then?" he snickered, touching my hair affectionately as I clutched him, whimpering and whining and wanting more than anything to get away back on solid ground.

"No, get off. Can we just go back?"

He seemed to find this amusing, and rather than take me back pulled me further forward.

"Don't worry. Its fine." As if he genuinely believed that.

I set my jaw tightly and stammered back at his heals. No more incidents by time we reached the end, and when he halted, I shivered. The walkway just kind of… dropped. And the harsh chopping ocean cut away deeply into a heaving murking oil below. I tightened my grip on his sleeve.

"Well?" He asked expectantly. "What do you think?"

What did I think.

What did I think of the soft morning light, and the perfume of his skin curling feebly around my mind before being whicked away by a fresh frisking breeze? What did I think when I opened my eyes, peeking nervously from behind the rumples of his coat and seeing a roaring tempest, an ocean seething and eddying with anger at the fact that we could not be reached.

We could not be reached here. Not by shore, or by sea.

My stomach leapt, and I realised that I was suddenly untouchable, stepping anew into a world beyond that that I know. I was no longer in Denmark, I was not in Norway… I was above the ocean. This notion made me laugh before I could contain it. His head snapped around and I clapped my handover my face to hide the smile.

"What? Do you like it?"

I twitched my expression back to neural and pulled my gaze away from the waves leaping and yielding far away at the edge of the sky.

"It's just an ocean."

"But it's amazing, right? Powerful… distant…"

"Why did you bring me here?"

"Because its quite obvious."

"No it isn't…"

He wiggled his eyebrows at me expectantly. I had a split second to wonder what was going on before without warning he had grabbed my hand and the world was jerked from beneath me. The sky blurred, his face blurred, the next thing I see is crashing ink black and white, zipping and fizzing around me. Winter raked its frost through my hair and skin, my clothes suddenly weighed a ton and I couldn't breathe. My chest constricted. Everything was wet.

When I broke the surface again, cold air pinned my cheeks a furious hot, a low, howling scream of fury issued from my chest before I was pulled back under once more, and a firm tug at my hand dragged me away from the current the pier induced through walls of water to a less bowing but still chopping space of sea. The shore by this time was a shy squiggle far away, the ground had dropped endlessly beneath me to oblivion and the only thing I was secure to was his arm as he pulled me further out.

If we didn't drown, I was going to _murder_ him.

"Mathias what are you DOING?" I shrieked as loud as I could, clawing at him, dragging myself onto him and pushing him under ruthlessly in my struggle to maintain airflow in my lungs. "Are you trying to kill me! Get me out! GET ME OUT!"

"Cal-Calm DOWN!" he spluttered and laughed, his hair sticking to his face, his scarf fanning across the surface of the grim and concrete cold water in a streak of crude blue. "Calm down and come HERE!" he grabbed my waist and pulled me against him, my body was only just registering that the water was _cold_. "And for gods sake kiss me."

His lips though, prickling with ice and firm with excitement, were colder.

Strange things about having a lover, that though sometimes we were argumentative, and sometimes I wanted to slaughter him, the spark that lit my body at his taste was undeniable, and wonderful. I didn't particularly _like _Mathias, but sometimes, in strange, whirlwind moments like this, I wondered how it was possible to feel so much, and to be moved so much. I'm a stoic, indifferent person for the most part. But Mathias… I don't understand how it's possible to be angry, happy, flustered, embarrassed, excited, ashamed, scared and needful all at the same time. It just doesn't process. Somehow though, in his arms, it worked, and my world shifted again to a whirling, insane scape not unlike the sea we were at the mercy off.

I gripped his jacket and held him, clutching with no intention to ever let go.

…

"You are the evilest man who ever lived." I told him icily, sitting and shivering on the end of the pier. He, still in the water and holding on to the bars of the metal ladder I had missed before, laughed, and slicked his sopping hair off his face.

"Was that not great?"

"No. it was awful. Don't do it again." I glared at him, bobbing up and down with the heavy waves, and rubbed my hands over my prickling skin. I don't remember ever being so cold in my life. It was like I had been buried in snow, pinning and needling and frozen all over first thing in the morning. The unsympathetic sun was not warm at all. The beach behind me was still utterly deserted.

"Why did you even feel the need to do that, anyway?"

He shrugged (I think) and kicked his legs out behind him a little. "I dunno. I just wanted to get lost in the moment I guess."

"Did it work?"

"I dunno that either, did it?" he winked, grasping the ladder a little tighter and dragging himself up. "Did you forget your inhibitions at all?"

I blinked, not allowing the faintest betraying trace of emotion into my voice. "No."

"Then nope." Cheerfully, though shivering almost as much as I the instant cool air hit his wet clothes, he hitched himself up onto the end of the boardwalk by my side. "Damn, looks like I may need to use alternative methods to get you out of your mind."

My brows pulled together.

"What?"

"That was my mission for the day, see if I can get my one and only ice prince to loose control… and we have the whole day here to do it."

I considered shoving him back in the water then, and doing a runner. Because what? What did he mean by that? He couldn't possibly mean what I thought he meant…

I sniffed, sitting up straighter and folding my arms against my chest. I knew that in theory, I should be pissed at him. But for some reason, I was not. Embarrassed, sad, yet also with indescribably happy butterflies… it was easier just to try not to make sense.

"Oh, come on, Nor." He used the nickname I had chosen for me on the first day we met. "Not even a little smile?"

Icicle fingers poked my cheek, I hit his hand away and fixed my gaze on the water, still eddying and churning beneath us. I knew we should get changed and warm again as soon as possible, in case hypothermia decided to pay us a heinous visit, but said nothing.

"Please?"

"Why should I smile? You dragged me here on a freezing cold morning, half drunk, to throw me in an ocean because you wanted to see me 'let go'. What does that even mean? Let go… let go of what?" I reeled it all of, sounding like a robot, fraught with frigidity. "If this was another sad attempt at getting me to let you fuck me more, it failed."

"The attempt isn't over yet." He leant forward and nudged my face with the point of his nose. "Not till I say so."

I turned to look at him, staring directly into borderline insipid yet oxymoronically dramatic Danish-blue eyes, and let him kiss me on the mouth.

"… Your lips are frozen." I stated shortly, before looking back away, over the sea.

"Your everything is frozen…" an arm slunk around my waist and plucked at the wet jeans on my upper thigh. "You're shaking like a little leaf."

"Hmm."

I ignored him, when the feeling of cold mouth flirted with the side of my neck.

He was always using phrases like that. 'Loose control' etcetera. Things I couldn't make sense of. It was like, he saw the world as this wild, rule-less place, and thought everyone else should too. Live in the moment, go with the flow… where as I struggled to find the flow at all. As far as I was concerned, life was as still as the surface of a mirror, reflecting only the person stood in front of it, and totally stationary, unchanging.

"Hey Nor?" his breath was burning hot on my numb ear.

"What?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're the most beautiful person in the world?"

"No."

"Well, someone has now." He kissed the side of my head, and another disjointed ghost of nonsense emotion flittered through me. "I just wish you would stop being so flat about it. Because if you did, you would be even more beautiful than this." He gestured to the broad roaring carpet of the ocean. I arched my eyebrow.

"You want me to be… an ocean?"

"Not an ocean. Just… act like the ocean. You know. Wild, emotional, unpredictable, passionate…"

I rolled my eyes and bent my knees up. Clutching them to my chest. The planks beneath me creaked.

"Not happening."

"That's a shame…" He pulled me close and resumed kissing the side of my neck and face. "Apathy doesn't suit such a beautiful creature."

I wasn't so apathetic when suddenly he knocked me backward, head thumping hard on the rotting wood of the boardwalk, and rolled on top of me without any justification whatsoever.

"Mathias! Get off me you stupid- hmnph!"

"Shh…" he was laughing, and I hated the feeling of it, he was shaking me right through. "It's okay. Live a little. Geeze."

I always thought Mathias was a little bit insane.

My chin was yanked up, his lips sealed against mine and oh _god_ he was kissing me so wildly I couldn't breathe. My hands flew to his face, my body was pulled against his magnetically. Wet clothes on wet clothes. A frozen hand sneaking up my side and pinching my waist. I squealed, which he interpreted as an invite to press his tongue even more into my mouth. By this point, all I could do was fight back, shove mine against his, my hands tying in his rumpled, dripping hair.

"M-Mathias…"

"Shh…"

"No, Mathias, no! Not here, not…"

He jumped off me, propping himself up and peering down on me with raised eyebrows and wide blue eyes.

"So… somewhere else?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Somewhere else!"

Leaping to his feet, jerking me up to follow, I was pulled in a reckless sprint down the boardwalk back to the shore. Foul wood clattered and gave beneath me, splints flying out, wetness flaying on the cusp of waves crashing and thundering beneath us.

A little bit insane? This man was a full blown nutter.

…

"Here's good right?" he pushed me messily onto the flat of grass, a little way from the surf and on the border of the camp grounds. I spluttered and tried to stand up again but he wasn't having it, straddling me good and grinning.

"No here is not good! Take me back to Efterskole!"

"Na-ah." He shook his head. "I think here is totally fine."

He pushed me down again, and I hissed, but gave up on resisting. If Matthias wanted to fuck here, on the grass, at the beach, then I just kind of had to accept that I was going home with sand in my underpants. All I could do now was lie back and take it.

He resumed his frantic kissing and sighing, I lifted my arms to pillow my head. His mouth was not so cold anymore, which was nice.

But after about two minutes, a significant enough period for me to forget that he was doing this outside after throwing me in the ocean as opposed to in the comfort of our own dorm room after a fresh night of sleep, he stopped, sitting back and frowning at me with the most puppy dog look on his face.

"What?" I asked him flatly. "Lost your appetite?"

"No, but you have."

He sighed, and ran his hands over his face to wipe off any drips that had leaked from his hairline.

"What's the matter? You were being so… fiery before. Now you're just… meh."

"… I'm meh." I repeated, disbelievingly.

"Yes. You're just like 'oh whatever. Let Mathias do what he wants and carry on' whereas out there you were so 'nonononononono!' and it was so fucking _hot_. Why can't you be more like that normally? Except instead of being 'nonono' you can be 'yesyesyes'. I'm bored of fucking a brick wall."

"I am… a brick wall?"

He huffed, eyes rolling, and got up from his seat on my legs.

"Just forget it." clearly sulking he jammed his hand at me, inviting me to take it. "Let's just go back to the school."

I titled my head to the side, not entirely understanding what the fuck he was on about, but resigned, I took it.

…

Mathias was strange, for the next few days.

Stranger than usual, I mean.

He left me alone, and that, frankly, terrified me at times, the shock of _not_ having him jump out at me from around corners and whatnot was almost as big as having him actually do it, the experience of waking up on days he had late without him in my bed was weird and well… lonely. I passed the days by as normal, doing my work, keeping to myself and doing what I did. But… I kept waiting for it. I kept waiting for it, and waiting for it, and he smiled at me and stuff, and he talked to me, but… it seemed flat. His eyes didn't glow when he looked at me, his arms weren't so curling and sneaky. And he just…

I hated too admit it but by Wednesday, I was beginning to feel not just unease, but a _longing_. I missed him, being obnoxiously in my face. Normally we would have had sex two or three times so far in the week, and I was kind of… missing it.

But the weekend was approaching again, and if any time of the week I was going to get dick, it was then.

Finally Friday morning rolled around, the day we both had free timetables, and at six thirty am I rolled over to…

Nothing. Just the dark shape of Mathias in his own bed.

I sighed, and sat up, clicking on my lamp. The patter of rain outside betrayed the ficklety of early spring, and the cold was something I sensed, rather than felt through the cosiness of our room.

His shadow, cast by the lamplight from my bedside lamp, quivered, and groaning I rubbed my temples.

"Mathias, are you awake?"

"Mm."

"What are you doing?"

"Playing Tetris." He lifted his hand over his shoulder, and sure enough he was clutching his smart phone, hi-score visible on the screen. "Why?"

I huffed, and my duvet rustled stiffly as I stood, standing into my slippers on the floor beside my bed. How was I supposed to go about this…

"Have you been drinking?" I glanced at his bedside for the tell tale beer cans, but there were none.

"Nope."

"Oh."

See, that was what I meant. That wasn't like Mathias at all. Not only with the not drinking, but with the not being a creeper and not sleeping late as well. It was grim, and well… I didn't know how to take it. I hadn't had sex for a week, and was kind of desperate.

"_You want me to be… an ocean?"_

"_Not an ocean. Just… act like the ocean. You know. Wild, emotional, unpredictable, passionate…"_

I wasn't sure I could be all those things. That was usually him, not me.

I stared at his form for a moment, caught between him and going to have breakfast…

Making a split second decision I kicked off my slippers and dropped onto his bed.

"Mathias," I nipped his phone from his hand and wide eyed he turned his head to look at me.

"Hey! I was winning what-"

"Shut up for a sec, I want to talk to you." It was set carefully on his bedside next to his alarmclock. He tsked and turned back away.

"You've been acting so strange this week, you know that?"

He shrugged and I brushed my bangs off my face. He was right; they were getting very, very long. Maybe I _should_ get a clip or something for them.

"Not really."

"You have too. You haven't been anywhere near as keen on me or anywhere near as loud. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Don't lie. Lies don't suit you." With a heavy sigh I lay down behind him and crept my arms around his waist. "You big dumb idiot. I don't like you when you're sad."

"You don't like me much when I'm happy either."

"… Did I say that?" I buried my nose in the nape of his neck and he tipped his head, almost inclining to turn around and face me. "Because that's bullshit."

"You didn't need to say it."

"Mathias…" this time, a frown pinched my brow and I identified clearly a soft concern, in my chest. "Look at me."

He did so, and upon seeing his eyes, glorious and blue, I smiled without even meaning to, because I hadn't seen them for what felt like lifetimes, and I was sure I had never, ever seen them look so… unguarded.

"… I like your eyes."

They widened in surprise.

"That's the closest I'm ever going to get to a compliment from you, isn't it?"

A nod, he looked at me for a moment longer… and broke into a grin.

"Good enough."

I was pulled into an embrace and a kiss, my fist since Saturday, and only then did I_ really_ realise how much I had missed it. My body sunk against his and slightly more eager than usual I rolled over on top of him, making myself comfortable over his hips.

"Woah." He seemed astonished. "Nor…"

"Use my name." I insisted, looking for something, anything to keep my stupid hair (which had fallen forward again) off my face. "I don't call you 'dickface', do I?"

"Maybe you do behind my back…" he noticed what I was looking for and with a sly smile he propped himself up and I slipped a little back on his hips as he yanked open a drawer, finding a strip of condoms and lube as anticipated, but also a barrette, a long plain cross made from maybe gold plastic. When I took it off him though, it was heavy. Like metal.

"What's this?"

He shrugged. "I bought it for you last time I was at home." It was taken back from me, so that he could do it himself, tucking the long fine hair on the one side of my face back behind my ear and clipping it confidently closed. "It looks cute."

I had never had someone buy me a gift before, on an occasion other than my birthday and Christmas, especially not one so nice. That was the kind of thing men did their wives, or girlfriends, with the cheesy little 'I love you' notes and other such nonsense. It definitely was NOT the sort of thing a guy like Mathias should be buying me, and I know I should have been a little angry or indignant about it, but for some reason, I couldn't be. The feel of the gift was strange, too heavy for just my hair, and I wondered how long it would take to get used to it. What would happen if it fell out? What would happen if it got stolen? What if, I thought with a breathless, internal eyeroll, he took me a beach and threw me in again? It would come out. It would sink…

What if it weighed me down too?

I swallowed, blinking away a strange hot feeling at the rim of my eyes and blushed beneath his smiling gaze, his hands cupping my face as he lay back down, pulling me with him.

"You are so beautiful."

And it's weird, but I had never, ever, kissed him first before that moment. I had never felt the need until that moment, and god when I did suddenly I understood why he kissed me so often. Because the urge to kiss someone, when it happens, is so blindingly overwhelming it cannot be ignored. To do so, I knew as if instinctually would leave one filled with agitation, discontentment, and self-hatred unsurpassable. Even if it meant risking my dignity, in that moment I just absolutely had to taste his lips. So I flew down and delivered a very unpractised peck to his chin, and then his mouth after a split second of embarrassment and a logistical reassessment. He inhaled sharply beneath me, and despair filled me when I realised he wasn't kissing back…

I pulled off, humiliated, and wiped my lips on the back of my hand.

"Sorry." I told him, making ready to go have breakfast after all. "I don't know what came over me."

When I stood though, he stopped me, seizing my wrist and pulling me back into his lap.

"Oh no you don't!" he seemed rather excited for some reason. "You can't just kiss me then run away, _kæreste_. That's not fair. Now… what was it you wanted?" he touched my burning cheek and smiled, suddenly not in the least sulky or distant. "You must want something, for you to kiss me like that…"

"Like what? I didn't kiss you like anything, now if you don't mind I'm going to get breakfast. Let me go please."

"Ah… come on… you were being sooooooo sweet before. Try again, huh?" he kissed my cheek and I wiggled, "Keep going? Eh? Eh? Eh?"

He punctuated with kisses on my face and jaw and neck. His lips were wonderful, and warm, and I missed them so much.

"Ah… Mathias…"

"Mmm?"

"… I like you."

He laughed and kissed my lips.

"I know…"

We tumbled backward onto his bed, the blankets rustling, and he pulled off his t-shirt in transit, casting it onto the floor.

"If you want it this time though, you have to show it."

"Show…"

"Be _passionate_ about it. Like… pretend I just threw you into an ocean."

I sniffed and bowed my head, pressing my forehead to his and meeting his gaze.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Hmm?" his hand caressed my throat, running up to my jaw and tilting my face up, his lips teased against mine. My heart leapt and without meaning to I rested the heals of my palms on his chest. It was smooth, defined and beautiful. I could feel his heartbeat there, beneath my hands, and it was a wonderfully moving thing. Soft, steady. But he just… he wouldn't kiss me properly. The ghost of his breath and the phantom of his lips were cruelly gentle. His chin nudged and I huffed, flustered and hot, giving into the flurry of frustrating emotion he had managed to rile in me yet again and pulling his face back to mine for a proper, deep kiss.

I wound my arm around his neck and rolled atop him, dragging my other hand over his waist and getting lost in the masses of blankets he had always insisted on having disarranged on his bed. He touched me too, just barely, gliding the very pins of his nails under the hem of my tank-top and easing it up, around, to my stomach button, and dipping in. it felt strange. Not unpleasant, but strange. I sucked in my stomach, but he just tapped it a little, before sliding his thumb over the dip and letting his finger run over my treasure trail.

"Don't." I chided, embarrassed at how it was affecting me, doing things it really shouldn't between my legs. "That feels strange."

"Strange… as in good?" a cheeky wink, I shook my head.

"Strange as in… no, stop that. Stop it!"

He was flicking my tummy button, pinching the perimeter ever so slightly and reducing me to agitated shivers. The smile he gave me indicated that he knew exactly what he was doing, and that frankly pissed me off. A lot.

"How are you gunna make me?"

"You are so pushing me right now, you know that?"

"Pushing you?" he jabbed me in the stomach and I hissed, shoving his hand away.

"Yes, cut it out."

"Hm?"

His other fingers crept around…

And that was it. I snapped like a board on that rotten old pier we had gone to last week, dumping all of my dignity and self restraint into the roaring endless blue below. Incredibly shitty, I slammed his hand above his head and bit the end of his nose, which he wasn't expecting but took with an amazingly gracious 'oh!', eyebrows arching in surprise for the slit second before I kissed him again, hard, and began working in the elastic of his sleep pants. His erection, caged in by silky red boxer shorts, wasn't quite enough to satisfy for the time being, and deciding my mouth could be out to better use preparing it to be completely destroyed by my body.

I had no idea how to go about performing oral sex, all I had in the way of training was having him, with his messy half drunken technique, and a lifetime of eating bananas not because I liked them but because I wouldn't get desert without my five plus a day. Neither the slobber and suck technique, nor the bite and chew, seemed appropriate, so I settled for the obvious, never fail lick, right up the back of his cock from the bottom, nestled in smooth blonde hair, to the tip, gliding his foreskin back expertly as I did so and letting my tongue flicker over the small details of his head. The warmth of it was weird on my mouth, and it warmed even more once I had started, swelling generously and taking on the appearance of something I did want, just as much as he, clearly, wanted me to keep going.

"Fuck!" he grabbed the pillow behind his head and shuddered in his place. "Holy fuck! Nor, don't stop that!"

"What?"

"Nikolas, Nikolas, I meant. Don't stop!"

Placated, I lowered my head and sighed a breath over it, prodding around his testicles and pondering the heady scent of his body. It was pleasant, earthy, and a little bit bitter with maturation, almost, almost edging on 'consider having a scrub' but not quite. He was more mellow than expected, and in awe I nibbled his right testicle softly, pulling the skin and tightening my fingers on his thigh when his hips clenched, and his shoulders jerked backwards. Maybe it had hurt. I didn't bother to ask, diving down again and kissing the spot lightly. And then deeply, and then tonguing it all over, feeling them lift in excitement as his breath drew short.

"Don't tease!" he hissed.

"I want to tease though," I realised as I said it, drawing my thumb and index finger slowly up his cock. "This is what you get for throwing me in the fucking sea."

He grumbled, but made no more complaint when I moved up, not running my tongue over him, oh my no, but letting it just touch, tracing his head, scratching the inside of his thighs until he began squirming, struggling to move around and sink his cock in my mouth.

Not fucking likely.

I licked it, seizing the base and giving it a good jerk as I sat up, to remove the last of my clothes.

"Fuck me." I told him, no more or less flat than always. "I missed having sex."

"You like my dick that much huh?" his smile glowed, face pink and hair rumpled, the happiness he was exuding was utterly radiant. He spoke a little breathlessly, but it was kind of sweet I suppose.

"No. but you aren't too bad. For a nut-job."

"I am not a nut-job."

"Whatever."

I really didn't care at the moment.

…

I had never felt like this before.

I had felt good, before, sure. Mathias was a good and generous lover. I had felt better than good on more than one occasion, and there had even been the odd moment in which I struggled to remember to breathe. Its just… being on top was different. Sitting on his hips, legs splayed either side and my hands flat on the smooth triangle of stomach below his tummy button, he looked different, and he settled different inside of me, and oh… oh what was _that?_

"Mathias!" I hissed, clawing his stomach in warning. "Stop it! What are you doing?"

"I'm not doing anything." He told me, raking both his hands through his hair and reaching back to hold the headboard loosely.

"Liar." I could feel he was doing something, his thigh muscles quivering and he was moving, even though he wasn't, he was moving, I could feel him twitching and nudging and I gritted my teeth, tipping my head back.

"Don't move." I told him lowly.

"Why? Does it feel good?" he smiled at me, his teeth perfect, his eyes alight. "If it feels good, say so. I want you to tell me."

"It doesn't." I lied, trying to decide if I was ready to move yet. "I'm only doing this because I feel guilt-ooohhh… fuck."

He tilted his hips a little, head of his erection rubbing languidly over a few specific spots, and I melted along my spine, unbelievably turned on and embarrassed.

"Hey?" he asked, and I hummed, so he understood I had heard. "Do you feel sexy right now?"

Sexy… well that depended. What was sexy anyway? Was it the feeling of being wanted? Of inspiring lust and pleasure in others or more specifically, him? Was it this amazing heat, the feeling of him seeing all of me, spread out and incredibly turned on, like he would look at a desirable item in a shop to buy? Maybe it was the treacherous, dangerous thrill of loss of control, the one that made my lips pillow and my back a little straighter as his eyes glided over every dip and seam of my body. He consumed me with his gaze and oh god it felt good, every moment he was looking I felt like he was working me up, doing it on purpose, until inside I was a churning vortex of sex drive and power.

I tipped my face around, hair no longer falling in my eyes thanks to the barrette he had gotten me, and nodded.

"Yes."

"So… what are you going to do about it?"

I saw his eyes flick over me again, lingering between my legs, and he dropped one hand from the headboard to my hip, brushing his hand over the skin. His smile was audible in his voice.

After a few seconds of silence, he cocked an eyebrow, and spoke again.

"Think about that ocean, hm? Remember how it moved? Up, down, back and forth… remember how it felt to be thrown around like that?"

I nodded, bending forward a little and caging my arms either side of him so we could lay, forehead to forehead.

"I remember…" I kissed his lips and he nodded.

"Soo…"

"So wait a second, I need to get comfortable."

It was an unusual position, and given the natural curve of his more intimate body parts, it stimulated previously unexplored spots, some good, others not so good. His hand on my hip moved up to massage my nipples, pulling a little on them and making me whimpers only partially in frustration.

"Cut that out!" I warned, biting his jaw. "Who's driving here?"

He laughed and I smiled against his throat, where he would never see.

_Loose control…_

"Hold me." I murmured, and obliging he slid both arms around my neck and hitched me closer.

We started slow, as always, and he was considerate enough to allow the motional decisions to me. It was entirely up to _me_ the pace, speed, and pattern in which we began because it was only _me_ doing anything, he lay there and held tight, sighing in contentment and kissing my hair, forehead and when he could reach, my parted, panting lips. After a while though, my pace picked up and from such a low position I couldn't get so much leverage. He noticed, because he pushed me gently backwards and dragged himself a little up the headboard.

"Hold on up there." He told me, placing his own hands on my waist and implying I should grip the top of the wooden bar. Wincing, I obliged, and resumed moving with a little more freedom. Now I was sitting erect on his cock, I could feel every inch of it sliding in and out of me, a lacy thin veil of latex the only thing separating us. It was a little cruel, but also a little sexy. As if… using condoms made it at least a little decent. If only in an ironic sense.

Oh god I could move so freely from up here!

Usually, sex with Mathias consisted of lying with my legs opened and my back bent uncomfortably. But today, sex with Mathias entailed a tremendous, soaring freedom. The knowledge that now I can roll my hips back and forward, side to side, up and down with loose liberty was delectable. I found myself hesitantly experimenting with all of these options, ignoring his soft breaths of delight or discomfort, and found without even noticing a swift, smooth gesture over him, rocking broadly, unrestrained and light headed. I was dizzy, it was like a breath of the lightest, freshest air. Was this all a dream? The skin on the back of my neck prickled, his touch was clammy on my tingling skin.

"Is it good?" his voice drifted weakly over a particularly gratifying roll of my pelvis. "You're smiling."

"I am?" I asked, feeling it, the smallest of expressions lilting my lips.

"Yeah… you look so beautiful when you smile."

I nodded, bowing my head, and kept riding.

Having been starved for sex for so long, and then suddenly feeling all those sensations again, wonderfully tangible and deep, was like loosing my virginity over anew. Once, twice, three times, it didn't matter how often we did it, but each time there was a dry spell, and every time (after about three days) that the generous rain of intimacy trickled over us once more, it was like my first time all over again, comforting him as he lay on his bed being utterly miserable about one thing or another, and somehow ending up totally impaled on his wonderful cock. Accidents happen, but this was one I knew I would never forget. He was one accident, one broken plank, you could say, in my bridge to the rest of my life that I never wanted to jump over. Maybe, even, there were times I wanted to fall in.

Times like now, when his fingers penned coils of warmth up my back and his throat was bared so gloriously, begging to be bruised and touched and tasted. When he slowly begin moving to accommodate me, hips lifting and penetrating a little more and a little more, so it wasn't just the slow rustling of sheets and one spread pair of thighs patting against another but two bodies tapping and slapping softly, chest to chest, lip to lip, tongues and teeth clicking and hands raking rough blonde hair. I hissed when he found the exact spot, having until that point been nudging it, teasing it enough to get me going, but not until exactly then actually managing to strike dead on.

"That's it!" I told him urgently, tilting my body to find it again. "That feels good. Right there!"

He grunted and tightened his grip on my hips.

"Day of firsts today is it?"

Breathlessly, I shook my head and bowed forward, crown tucking under his chin, and scraping my teeth along his collar. So usually I was stoic, it didn't matter. I kind of had to tell him, if I wanted him to do it right, and it was definitely worth it because now he knew… it was like he was doing it on purpose.

Which he most likely was.

And it really, really didn't take long to, after discovering that spot, send me ricocheting into a humiliating spiral of whorely disgrace.

Mathias had a wonderful cock and magical hands, he was handsome, passionate, alternative and totally utterly mad. He was everything I wasn't, and god I loved him, _I loved him_, when he held me close like that and told me so many times I was beautiful that I believed it, for the first time in my life I truly believed it, feeling his body heat melt and meld us, dissolve us, swirl us together in an inseparable singularity I couldn't even articulate.

He huffed happily and crunched me even tighter, but I didn't complain because the shortness of breath was a dizzying magnifier for the sensation of his length rubbing inside, working only for pleasure and oh… god… _yes!_

One thing I liked about real life sex over porn, was that in real life (or maybe it was just him) no-one actually made a point of announcing their orgasms. They just kind of… let them happen. And Mathias gave no signal of his bed rattling climax beyond a strangled moan and a terrific shudder of his hips. It was _wonderful_, and sexy, and totally breath taking. I gouged my nails in the headboard above me and buckled, letting him scratch my stomach as the last tremors of after shock took him, whining a little at the warmth of his come contained by heartless thin latex. He rolled me off and immediately shucked the condom, pressing me back hard into the bed and pouncing on my chest.

"Fuck." He swore softly, rubbing his body against mine enough to frustrate and finding a stable position. "That was good."

"What about me?" I hissed, aiming a smack to his face but missing and ending up with my fingers tying in his hair and forcing him down. "Finish what you started!"

He mumbled something incomprehensible down the slope of my stomach, damp lips tingling against feverish flushed skin. Arms hooked around my thighs and pulled them apart, and feeling his mouth on my inner leg was a godsend, his tousled bangs tickling the region in a toe-curling, warming sort of way.

The soft, syrupy velvet of tongue was a relief on the aching heat of my dick, his sucking, quite forcible, was pulling all the twitching and hurting to a single, overly sensitive point at the head of my length. Broad palms eased the base, he let me room to move in motion with his pumping and sucking, and despite myself my heavy breathing had become wanton whimpers and naughty but none the less blissful moans. It wasn't an as sensual experience as the silent, chest to chest touching all over I was acquainted with, but it was amazing, god it was amazing, and softly, seemingly easily he sucked me into a rhythmic, pulsing liberation that drew all the muscles in my lower body taught and released them over and over and over and fuck fuck fuck

"_Ooohhh… _FUCK!"

As soon as I said it, mortification lurched in my stomach and another crippling wave of gratification squirmed in my pelvis. I fought against the pleasure, trying to salvage at least some dignity, but couldn't. Instead I finished down his throat and He hummed amusedly around me. His sucking didn't stop, and after I had stopped feeling pulled in nineteen different directions of sensation, I sat up, huffing and panting and red faced, feeling no where near as mellow as the post-coital state is reputed. I didn't think he would move from my dick unless I yanked him off, so I did so, pulling weakly with his hair and hissing when the cool hit the wet heated area between my legs.

"Heh, that was sexy as fuck you know that?"

"Shut up!" I told him roughly, yanking him back up by the hair still and forcing him ruthlessly down beside me. "If you ever mention that again, I will never speak to you. Ever."

"Aww… but it was great." He rubbed his mouth, clearly trying to hide the massive, absolutely uncalled for grin that was plastered stupidly all over his face. "Tasted bad though."

"? You… how dare you?" I hit him in the face, but he was too fast for me and caught it before I could do so again. "you're the one who did it. Idiot."

"Yeah, you're right. im the one who did that, aren't I?" he winked and kissed my hand like the pervert he was. "Who would have thought, I could get stony faced you to come like that."

His arms coiled around me and I found myself crushed against his chest.

"I should throw you more places more often."

…

… Maybe I will write NewZealand porn next time. And then we will be even.

Guys that's a MAYBE. If the inclination takes me. Don't get your hopes up… also, if I do, I will be posting it on my writing tumblr, not FF. so… yeah… :p *lazy and useless waste of oxygen etcetera*

I LIKE TURTLES

*doesn't own hetalia*


End file.
